


Stranded

by Avirra



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2540444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avirra/pseuds/Avirra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Without transportation, far from any town, out of communications range, and being hunted by THRUSH, our intrepid four agents seem to stumble across a guardian angel - or is she something far from an angel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's section7mfu - 7 Days of Halloween.

The four agents were battered, tired and soaked to the skin. None of them were complaining though. The flattened car they had left behind them was mute testimony to how much worse things could have been.

Illya was the one that spotted the light that could barely be made out through the pouring rain. They could only hope that wherever the light was at was a place where they could beg for at least a covered porch to sit under while the rain lasted.

None of them were wearing shoes designed for a long hike even in dry weather. The wet, sucking mud that they were trudging through had already claimed both of April's shoes and one of Napoleon's. Neither agent was inclined to fight the mud to retrieve them and carried on as the dim light slowly got brighter ahead of them.

April smiled in hope as the white picket fence came into view. To her, a white picket fence was a symbol of hospitality. Mark was a bit warier, but the thought of a few minutes out of the rain won out over caution.

Finding the gate closed, but unlocked, the four made their way through it and hurried up to the covered porch. The dryness of the old wooden bench and chairs was inviting as the water literally ran off of them. Napoleon gave up trying to dry off an hand and rapped on the door.

The woman opening the door looked to be about the same age as April, but she was wearing an old-fashioned high necked dress of white with long-sleeves. Her expression on seeing them moved quickly from surprise to concern as one hand brushed back her blonde bangs.

"You poor things. You must be freezing . . . but can I ask you to wait right here? I'll bring you something dry. My power is out and if you bring the damp inside with you, you'll never warm up."

"Thank you - just being able to stand out of the rain is a treat, ma'am."

She left the door open and they could see her shadowy figure moving from place to place. She handed the first bundle to April.

"The side porch should be dry and it will give you a little privacy. Put your wet things into a pile and I'll spread them out to dry."

"That's very generous of you. Thank you."

Once April took the bundle, she turned to the men.

"I'm sorry I don't have much I can offer you but towels and blankets, but you need to get out of those wet things as well before you all come down with pneumonia. Once you're dry, wrap up in a blanket and come right on inside. I've got a fireplace - I'll get it started and warm up something for you to drink."

Illya reached out a hand to accept one of the towels.

"What you are offering is fine, madam. You are very kind."

The woman blushed and then ducked back inside to allow the men some privacy as they pulled off their sodden clothes. Mark couldn't resist a tease at Illya.

"I do believe she fancies you, mate."

Though slightly disappointed that the lovely blonde hadn't looked his way, Napoleon joined in with the ribbing.

"It's the hair color. They go toward each other like magnets."

Rolling his eyes at the pair, Illya was the first to head inside. He was looking forward to the promised fire. April was a close second and, by the time Mark and Napoleon joined them, they were both already comfortably settled in chairs. Something about the fireplace struck Napoleon as odd, but he couldn't figure out what it was. The warmth was so welcome, he decided it wasn't worth worrying about.

The woman came back in bearing a small tray holding four steaming mugs.

"It's only broth I had simmering to make soup with, but I hope it will do for now. It's a good thing I still have my old wood stove."

The broth was hot and fragrant with herbs that Illya hadn't smelled since he was a boy. After his first sip, his face took on the expression that Napoleon had thought was reserved for French pastries. Napoleon had to admit though that, so far as broth went, it was probably the best he'd ever tasted.

Once they each had their mug, she sat the tray down on a nearby table.

"Please pardon my rudeness. Here I've not even asked your names or introduced myself. Please call me Mildred."

April was the only one not sipping broth at the time, so she jumped in with their side of the introductions.

"I'm April and these are my friends, Napoleon, Mark and Illya. We were traveling through the area when a landslide caught our car."

Mildred gasped at that.

"My stars! I've always said they needed to do something about that hillside - that's not the first time part of it has given way. You're lucky to be alive."

Lowering his mug, Mark joined in.

"And even luckier to have found your home. I'm not sure how we would have managed if we hadn't."

Mildred smiled at Mark, but her eyes strayed back over to Illya.

"I'm certainly glad that you found me then. I'm sorry to tell you though that the last time the hill gave way, it took two days to clear. Of course, they had to wait until the rains to stop before that started work. I don't have a lot of room, but you're welcome to stay at least until it dries up some. April, if it wouldn't bother you, we used to have a lady that lived here that took care of my folks. The room is off the kitchen and tiny, but it's clean, warm and you'd have it to yourself. And Mark, you and Napoleon could sleep in my folks old room. Not meaning any offense, Illya, but where you're a bit smaller, you're probably the only one that would be able to sleep on the couch in the parlor. It's very comfortable, but not very wide."

"As I would be most grateful to sleep on a dry floor, the couch is most welcome."

April noticed the blush this time, but hid her smiles behind her mug. Their hostess seemed to be a slightly shy, very proper young woman. Just the sort that could evade Napoleon's charms only to fall for Illya.

Between the adrenaline rush at the landslide, the long hard walk through the bad weather and now the warmth of the fire combined with the warm broth, all four agents were stifling yawns before emptying their mugs. Mildred waved aside their apologies.

"You folks are bound to be exhausted. Let me show you to where you'll be sleeping and you can head right to bed. With the rain coming down as hard as it is and the power being out, I'll think I'll turn in early myself after I spread your clothes out to dry."

None of them argued her suggestion. April found the small room to be cozy rather than claustrophobic with a soft bed and plenty of warm covering. Napoleon and Mark had to share a bed, but there was enough room for both men to stretch out without colliding with one another. Illya found the couch was even more comfortable that he had dared hope and Mildred provided him with two pillows as well as both blanket and quilt.

As he slept that night, Illya had dreams such as he'd never had before. Dreams of moving wild and free under a full moon - almost like riding, but no, he was running under his own power to a hill. And atop the hill was a pale wolf.

In the upstairs bedroom, Mark startled awake and stared at the window. All he could hear now was a low rumble of thunder, but he would have sworn that it was the howl of a wolf that had woken him up.


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon and Mark woke in unison to the pounding on their door, both reaching automatically for their weapons before hearing April's voice.

"Napoleon! Get up - something's very wrong with Illya!"

That was all that Napoleon needed to hear. Grabbing a blanket to cover himself, he wrapped it quickly and opened the door, following April down the stairs with Mark not far behind.

Napoleon hadn't looked into the parlor before, but it was a rather ornate room for an otherwise fairly rustic house. The couch Illya was laying on was made in a style that likely hadn't been popular since Queen Victoria sat the throne and the blood-red upholstery made Illya look ever paler than usual.

Settling down next to his partner, Napoleon frowned. Illya's breathing was shallow. Reaching up to touch the Russian forehead, his eyes widened. Touching Illya was like touching someone who had just come in from the cold even though he was in a warm room topped with a thick blanket and quilt.

A quick check of Illya's pulse showed it to be slow and steady - exactly what it should be for a peacefully sleeping man. That calmed Napoleon down a little, but Illya's sluggish response to attempts to wake him were concerning. They finally managed to get Illya sitting upright, but the effort was plainly exhausting for the Russian and his entire body was trembling.

Mark made the excuse of checking the weather and stepped onto the covered porch before pulling out his communicator pen. His hopes of calling for an evacuation to get Illya to a hospital were dashed when there was no signal at all. The rain was still falling without letup and he stood there and watched it coming down for a minute or two before going inside to give Napoleon the bad news.

* * *

Far closer than Mark would have been comfortable with knowing, a trio of THRUSH agents were slowly searching the area for signs of the four UNCLE agents. All were dressed in waterproof camouflage gear - and grumbling.

"The rain's washed away any tracks they might have left."

"Doesn't matter, Cerullo. We search until we find them. They couldn't have gotten too far. No vehicle, no foul weather gear and no supplies. And no houses for miles. We'll find them. Probably dead from exposure, but we'll find them. Becker? What the hell did you trip over?"

"There's something here under the mud, Mister Finmore. It's . . . hey, we're on the right track!"

"How do you figure that?"

"I tripped over a ladies shoe - it's bound to belong to that Dancer dame."

"And where we find Dancer, we'll find Solo, Kuryakin and Slate. Good work, Becker. Now that the broad's barefoot, that will have slowed them down even more."

* * *

Napoleon left April at Illya's side and found his way to the kitchen. The room was warm and steamy and the smell of some sort of meat filled the air. Mildred was wearing the same dress or at least a similar one to the one she had worn the night before. It was currently mostly covered by a large apron as she worked at the stove.

"I hope no one has objections to eating rabbit. It's one meat that I have plenty of."

"I'm sure we'll be fine with anything you make, Mildred."

At the distracted tone in Napoleon's voice, Mildred sat her wooden spoon down and turned around.

"You're worried about Illya, aren't you? It's a wonder you aren't all sick, as drenched and cold as you all got yesterday."

"I know, but . . . he's so cold."

Mildred indicated a small pot off to itself.

"I wish there was a doctor close enough to reach by foot, but since Doc Williams retired and moved away, the nearest one is a good twenty miles from here. I fixed my mother's remedy for him. It doesn't look nice and it smells pretty bad, but it works wonders. Three days treatment will knock out the dewy lung right out of him."

"Dewy lung?"

Reaching for the pot at the back of the stove, Mildred seemed embarrassed.

"Oh, I don't know the real name for it, but folks around here have always called it that. Doc Williams said it was caused by one of the trees in the area that puts out spores that some folks react badly to. They called it dewy lung because the spores only get released when there's a really heavy dew or it rains."

Watching her pour the liquid into a mug, Napoleon couldn't stop himself from grimacing. Whatever is was poured like a thin syrup and was the color of fresh blood. She was also right about the smell being unpleasant. Mildred gave him a sympathetic look as she offered him the mug.

"See if you can get him to drink it all. Don't worry about the smell bothering him. That's one way you know that it's dewy lung - he won't mind the smell one bit."

Not at all sure about her concoction, but unable to think of anything else to help his ailing partner, Napoleon took the mug and headed back to the parlor. Both April and Illya reacted as he came near with the mug, but Illya spoke first.

"Is that for me, Napoleon? It smells wonderful."

April's mouth dropped open at Illya's words, but Napoleon didn't comment.

"Yes. Mildred made it for you, tovarich. She said it would help perk you up."

Settled next to Illya, Napoleon helped steady the mug so Illya could take a drink. He feared that Illya would spit it back out, but Napoleon actually had to stop him from drinking it too quickly. By the time Illya drank all of it down, his trembling had stopped.

"Mildred was right, I feel better. I am still tired though. I did not sleep well last night."

They all turned at the voice at the door.

"We'll all have a hot lunch in about an hour. Why don't you take a little nap until then?"

"Thank you, Mildred. I believe that I will. And thank you as well for the . . . whatever that was."

"It's a little folk remedy my mother came up with. I wish I could say you'll keep feeling better, but you'll need a dose every morning until the sickness passes."

"We have put you to a great deal of trouble, but you are very kind."

April noticed Mildred's eyes seemed very bright for a moment. Surely she wasn't about to cry?

"It's been no trouble at all. I love this old house, but I do get so lonely here at times. I'm sorry that all of you had trouble, but having company is so nice."

Reaching out to touch Mildred's arm, April gave her a soft smile.

"Don't feel guilty about enjoying this, Mildred. It isn't as if you caused the landslide."

Napoleon felt his nerves jump. Had to have been a trick of the light, but he could have sworn that, just for a second, Mildred's eyes had flashed red.


	3. Chapter 3

April noticed that Mildred was rarely still for long. Shortly after she had told them when they would be eating, she came around carrying a large wicker basket filled with neatly folded clothing. It seemed that sometime during the night, she had not only laundered their clothing, but ironed them as well. Thrilled that she would be back in real clothes again, April took the basket from Mildred with a smile.

"When did you have time to do all of this? You should have let me help you,"

Mildred smiled back and brushed back her bangs again. Not for the first time, April thought how odd it was that someone who dressed as old-fashioned as Mildred did painted her nails with bright red polish.

"It was no trouble at all. I just added them to my own wash. You were all so exhausted when you arrived that I wouldn't have wanted to wake you over such a little thing. I'm sure you'll all feel better with your clothes back on. By the time you're dressed, food will be on the table."

April thanked her again, then took the boys' clothing to them before retreating back to her room to get dressed herself. Mildred was right, she did feel much better now that she was back in her own clothing. Napoleon and Mark also looked far more at ease as they helped Illya to the table. Illya was far more alert, but his continuing weakness had Napoleon concerned.

When Mildred began to carry the food in, Mark moved off to help her as Napoleon settled Illya in a chair. In no time, the table was piled with a platter of rabbit, a basket of warm bread and a bowl filled with a mixture of green beans and potatoes. A pitcher of cold water was the last thing added to the table and Mildred began filling the glasses.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything else to offer, but I rarely drink anything but water myself. The well here is so cold and refreshing."

Everyone immediately assured their hostess that water was perfect and began to fill their plates. Napoleon filled one for Illya first and felt a little better as he saw that Illya seemed to have a good appetite. It gave him an appetite to try his own food which was plain, but warm and filling.

April and Napoleon were on either side of Illya and had most of their focus on him, but Mark found himself watching Mildred. She ate the rabbit, but didn't bother with any of the other food on the table. then her hands drew his attention. He'd never seen anyone before whose index finger was the same length as her middle finger. He filed that away as unusual, but really no more unusual than the fact that some people were born with too many fingers or birthmarks.

The sound of rain hitting the roof and rumbles of thunder accompanied the meal, but it an odd bird call that had Mildred rising from the table and hurrying to a window. Mark recovered first and questioned her.

"Mildred? Is something wrong?"

Wrapping her arms around herself as if she were cold, Mildred turned partly away from the window to look at Mark.

"That bird that called. It never does that unless there is someone in the woods that doesn't belong there."

All four agents looked at one another when she said that. April whispered under her breath.

"THRUSH?"

Mildred had already turned back to face the window.

"No, not a thrush. That was a raven."

Shocked that Mildred had heard her, April was glad she hadn't said more than the one word. She decided she must have spoken louder than she'd realized and returned to the worry that they might have led THRUSH toward the little house.

Finally returning to the table, Mildred ate only a little more before getting back up.

"Don't rush your own meals - I guess I nibbled more while I was cooking that I thought I did. I'm going to go check on the fire in the main room. The dampness seems to be trying to creep in."

Once alone, the agents quietly conferred with each other about the likelihood that THRUSH was in the area. They quickly decided that one of them would be up at all times, just in case. Illya protested, but was firmly excluded from the guard duty by the other three. He would keep resting and save his strength to join in if it came down to a fight. They didn't want Mildred to be harmed for givig them shelter.

All of them were restless, but the day eventually faded into night. They used the leftover rabbit and bread, making sandwiches to eat in front of the fire, then encouraged Illya to settle down in the parlor to sleep. The rest of them headed to bed as well - or at least pretended to. April claimed the first watch. She'd wake Mark at midnight and he'd wake Napoleon at 3am.

April and Mark's watches both passed without incident. Napoleon was standing with his back to the remaining embers in the fireplace to ward off a chill when a scream from outside made him reach for his gun. From the sound upstairs, the scream had woken Mark - both he and April were by Napoleon's side within minutes.

When neither Illya nor Mildred emerged, Napoleon went to check on his partner and was alarmed to find Illya was even worse than he'd been the previous day. His breathing was so shallow, he could barely detect it and this time, his pulse was more sluggish as well.

Standing in the doorway, watching Napoleon tend to Illya, April and Mark spun around as a loud howl shattered the quiet. Backing into the parlor, they glanced at one another, then moved to flank the couch Illya was on.

None of the three agents slept again that night as they kept a vigil over their sick friend.


	4. Chapter 4

The rain was still coming down, but the outside light had gone from black to gray about an hour before they heard from Mildred. She came to the door almost timidly and looked in.

"That horrible noise outside woke all of you too, didn't it?"

"Yes, it did. Well, all of us but Illya."

Hurrying over, she looked over Illya and sighed.

"I did warn you that the dewy lung takes more than one dose of tonic. I'll get it warmed up."

Following Mildred into the kitchen, April looked through the window to see if there was anything she could see from there while making small talk.

"I was a little surprised that you didn't join us after that scream."

Adding some wood to the stove, Mildred shook her head.

"I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I pulled the covers over my head like that would have prevented anyone from finding me. And I stayed like that until I was sure it was morning. I don't know why the daytime feels safer than the night, but it does."

"I have to admit, I've noticed that myself. Is there anything that I can help with?"

"Not right now, but I'm hoping that Napoleon and Mark wouldn't mind bringing some wood from the wood pile up onto the porch. I've about used up all I had on the back porch."

"I'm sure they'll be glad to help."

The smell of the stuff Mildred poured into the mug made April's nose want to curl up, but she didn't remark on it since it had seemed to help Illya so much before.

"Can I take that in for you?"

"Thank you, but no need. I've got it."

Following behind, April thought it was a bit peculiar that Mildred wouldn't let her carry the mug, but was very insistent that Napoleon take it from her hand. It struck her as having an almost ritualistic quality to it. Scoffing at herself, April decided that the non-stop rains were starting to wear on her nerves.

Napoleon was finally able to rouse Illya enough to offer him a drink, but despite his enthusiasm for it the previous day, Illya seemed reluctant to let the mug near him at first. Still, after he gave in to Napoleon's coaxing and took the first sip, the problem then was trying to keep him from drinking it too fast. As the drained mug was pulled away, he heard Mildred's voice behind him.

"Ah, that's good, that's good. Once more and it will all be over."

There was an undertone to her voice that sounded almost like excitement or possibly anticipation - neither of which struck Napoleon as being appropriate to their situation, but after the night they'd spent, the combination of too much adrenaline and too little sleep likely had his perceptions skewed.

They were served a hearty breakfast of eggs, fried rabbit and toast, but Mildred didn't eat herself, saying she had eaten while cooking as it had helped settle her nerves. April mentioned Mildred's earlier request about wood and, as she expected, both men immediately volunteered - or at least until Napoleon remembered he only had one shoe. Mildred rummaged in one of her storage areas and dug out her father's old rubber work boots. They were a bit large, but after putting on two pair of socks that were also offered, they fit well enough and were, at any rate, better than going out barefooted.

There was no helping the fact that they were going to get soaked, but at least the temperature was warm. Since Napoleon had the boots, they decided Napoleon would make the trips from the woodpile to the back porch and Mark would take the wood from there and stack it. Once they had finished, Mark looked over the area.

"Listen, mate - we already couldn't get any wetter. What say you and I take a look around to see if there's any signs of what happened last night? Or see if there's any signs that THRUSHies might be about?"

"Good idea, Mark. Sooner we start, the sooner we can go back inside and dry off."

After a brief discussion, they decided to stay within easy calling distance of one another, starting their search in the direction that Napoleon had said the scream seemed to come from. It didn't take them long to find the first body.

Neither agent was a rookie at viewing death, but the man in front of them had clearly died a horrifying death. Some large wild animal had ripped the man's throat out and his abdomen had been ripped apart as well - most of the organs were missing, presumably eaten.

The untouched backpack and weapons with the corpse easily identified him as a THRUSH operative. It didn't take a lot of scouting around to find two other bodies in sickeningly similar condition to the first corpse. They searched a bit longer to ensure that there were no other dead before gathering the backpacks and weapons to take back with them.

Mark tried his communicator again, cursing a bit when he still couldn't make contact. Putting his pen back, Mark hefted up his share of the load before turning to Napoleon.

"It's likely this weather playing tricks on my mind, but does something strike you as being . . . off?"

Napoleon shot Mark a rather incredulous look.

"You mean beyond finding three enemy agents torn open by some sort of animal?"

Mark returned Napoleon's look full force.

"Yes. Things were feeling off before we found those blokes. There's something about Mildred. Little looks and expressions she has that she only has when she doesn't know we're looking. The way she watches Illya - almost reminds me of a cat watching a mouse."

"Now, Mark . . ."

But Mark wasn't in the mood to be interrupted and carried on.

"And how about Illya? I've seen the man with everything from a splinter to being on death's door, but I have never, ever seen him just quietly lie back without complaint and do whatever's asked. Accept any treatment without question. You know him far better though - does it feel right to you?"

Sighing, Napoleon gave in.

"No. You're right, but I can't tell what's legitimate and what might be my mind playing tricks. I mean, there was one moment that I would have sworn that Mildred's eyes went red. And there was something about that fire the first night that bothered me, but I never could figure out what."

"How about the fact that she said she was going to go start it, but there was already a bed of coals? That fire had been going before we got there, mate. Of course, maybe she misspoke and meant she was going to get the fire going again. But I do know one thing - you, me and April need to get to ourselves and lay out everything we've noticed that's odd or out of place."

"You're right, Mark. We're trained agents and none of us are known for letting our imaginations run wild. Needing to go through these backpacks will give us a good excuse to be off to ourselves and we can ask Mildred to watch over Illya."

Nodding agreement, Mark gave a glance back over his shoulder. Three dead men. Three dead trained assassins and not a single indication that they'd even managed to wound whatever it was that killed them. Remembering the howl, a shudder ran through him and he picked up the pace a bit. Getting out of the woods seemed like an excellent idea.


	5. Chapter 5

Both April and Mildred fussed at the men when they finally returned.

"Oh, for goodness sakes! I think you're both wetter than when we arrived here."

"Do both of you want to come down with dewy lung as well? Quickly, get out of those wet things and I'll make sure the fire's going well."

April stopped herself from commenting further when Mark discretely showed her one of the THRUSH weapons and indicated the side porch with a tilt of his head. Coming over, she took the THRUSH weapon from him along with both of their service weapons before they went back onto the back porch to peel out of their wet clothes.

After the two were rewrapped in blankets and settled in front of the fire, April declared her need for some fresh air. Going out to the side porch, she looked over the collection of backpacks with a frown, then began methodically going through them to see what they contained. Finding one of her shoes tucked into the second backpack she opened confirmed in her mind that these agents hadn't been in the area by coincidence.

By the time she had gone through all three backpacks, she had a small pile of information that she needed to share with the others, some basic survival gear including food and water and a mix of small weapons. Thinking back, she was sure she hadn't heard any noises she would have associated with gunfire, so how had they managed to get hold of the backpacks?

Finding a waterproof pouch among the items, April placed the information she's found inside it and tucked it under her belt as she secured the backpacks and weapons out of sight as well as she could. When she joined Napoleon and Mark in front of the fire, she showed them the packet and Napoleon nodded in approval.

"The three of us need to have a few words in private - or as private as we can manage."

Mark bit his lip then remarked.

"We all speak passable French and, so long as we stay far enough away that we don't make Illya crazy with our accents, we should be able to pass along what we need to."

Napoleon smiled.

"Grande idée, Mark."

For the next hour, the three agents passed back and forth the little oddities that none of them had thought worth mentioning - the flashes of red, the elongated index fingers, the keen hearing and the almost proprietary way she was with Illya. Then Napoleon and Mark told April the details about the three THRUSH agents that they'd found - and the condition that they'd found them in. April reciprocated by telling them about the various contents of the three backpacks - including the presence of one of her shoes.

Mildred glanced in for a moment just to ask if they'd mind terribly if she laid out things for sandwiches instead of fixing a full meal and they assured her that they were fine with that. Both April and Mark offered to assist in the kitchen but were politely turned down.

"Oh, Illya and I have already eaten, so no need to worry about us. I'll have everything laid out on the table and I'll be back before dark."

All three looked up at that.

"You're leaving?"

"Just going over the hill to tend to my rabbits - I can go a couple of days without seeing to them, but they'll need fresh water and their area cleaned out by now. I hoped I could wait until the rain stopped, but time to put on my coat and boots to tend them."

Mark immediately offered to help, but again was turned down.

"They're terribly skittish around anyone they don't know. If you'll tend to the wood stove and the fireplace while I'm out, that will help me greatly."

They all remained near the fire until they heard Mildred leave, then Mark and April headed to the table. Napoleon decided to go check on Illya first. The ups and downs of his health made him wish for a helicopter evacuation, but at the moment, he might as well wish for the moon.

Napoleon hadn't thought Illya could get any paler, but he seemed almost waxen now. No matter what, he needed to get a doctor for his friend soon. Thinking Illya was soundly asleep, Napoleon started to turn away, but was startled when Illya reached out and grabbed his arm without warning. Looking down, he saw his partner's eyes were clear, but his expression was one of desperation. He lowered his voice as Illya was looking around anxiously as if worried about someone else hearing.

"What's wrong, chum?"

Illya kept his own voice low, but insistent.

"When you leave here, do not leave me behind. No matter what she says - no matter what I may say then. Do not leave me here. Swear it."

The intensity of Illya's demand made Napoleon hesitate. He had been thinking of heading out the next day to try and contact help whether the rain stopped or not. Taking Illya out in that weather could be the equivalent of signing his death warrant.

"Listen, Illya - that may not be . . .'

His words trailed off as Illya's grip grew tighter.

"No! No excuses - no reasons. Swear or our partnership is over."

The threat wasn't what Napoleon was expecting, but he knew Illya well enough to know by his tone that he wasn't bluffing. He still didn't feel good about agreeing, but he nodded.

"I swear, Illya. If I leave here, you'll be with me even if I have to carry you."

Slumping in relief, Illya released Napoleon and seemed to fall back asleep immediately. The whole experience left him feeling unsettled as he went to check in with April and Mark.


	6. Chapter 6

It was late when Mildred returned, but she was in a good mood.

"Looking over the skies, I believe the rains will be slacking tomorrow. It might be you're best chance to find a place to call for help in getting your car out."

"You're probably right. Would you mind giving us general directions to the nearest town?"

"Of course. Let me get some paper."

April watched as Mildred made them a map with a set of directions. She was a bit taken aback at the amount of detail, both in the drawing and the directions. After she finished, she chuckled at April's expression and passed the paper over to her.

"It would probably be best if your friend, Illya, remained here. I don't think he'll be strong enough for such a long walk, plus the damp would be bad for him. It will be easy enough for you to come back for him once you reach the town."

April nodded agreement - Napoleon hadn't spoken to either April or Mark about what Illya had said and decided to remain non-committal.

"We'll see how he's feeling in the morning, but you might be right."

They watched as Mildred left the room, humming.

"I think she's looking forward to us leaving."

Mark shook his head.

"Actually, luv, I think what she's looking forward to is being left alone with Illya."

Napoleon spoke firmly then.

"That's not happening. When we leave, whatever the weather, whatever his condition, Illya goes with us."

Exchanging concerned looks, April and Mark didn't seem convinced. Napoleon lowered his voice.

"Illya grabbed hold of me earlier and made me swear not to leave him behind. He said if I wouldn't swear our partnership was through."

Mark let out an almost soundless whistle.

"Sounds like he was serious."

"As serious as I've ever seen him. I gave him my word - I'm not going back on it."

None of them slept well that night. The woods seemed full of howlings, but when the sky started to lighten, the heavy rains had reduced to light drizzle.

Going in to check on Illya, Napoleon started to seriously doubt himself. Mildred took one quick look in herself.

"I'll be right back - I've almost got his last dose finished for him."

Illya reached out and gripped Napoleon's arm harder than he would have thought his partner would have been capable of. The blue eyes were clear again.

"If you offer me the drink, Napoleon - I cannot refuse it."

Both Illya's expression and tone told Napoleon that was a bad thing. He didn't have time to question though as Mildred came in with April and Mark close behind.

All smiles, Mildred carried the mug over to Napoleon and, for the first time, he saw what April had meant when she'd mentioned that Mildred treated it almost like a ritual. Napoleon took the mug, looked down at his wasted looking partner, then turned suddenly and flung the entire contents of the mug into the fire. It smelled even worse as it burned.

MIldred shrieked - not a horrified shriek, but one of rage and now? Now none of them doubted Napoleon as her eyes were most decidedly red.

"Get out! All of you! How dare you ruin everything? But if you aren't out of my woods by dark, see if I don't have him yet!"

She grabbed for a butcher knife and April was glad that they didn't have anything with them but what they were already wearing. Napoleon grabbed Illya and headed straight for the door. Mark opened it and they all ran out with the still enraged woman close behind. April felt Mark stumble beside her and grabbed him, pulling him along. She felt something warm run across her hand and knew then that Mark was bleeding, but didn't dare slow to see how bad it was yet. When they finally heard the house's door slam, they finally stopped to catch their breath.

As the last out of the door, Mark had been caught by the slash of Mildred's blade. It was a nasty long slice, but fortunately not very deep. Still, it was in an awkward place to bandage.

After April had done the best she could, she looked back toward the house.

"You boys keep an eye on Illya. I'm going back for those THRUSH backpacks. We need those supplies and I'm the one that knows where they're hidden."

"Be careful, luv - that ruddy knife of hers is a sharp one."

It wasn't a problem to tell where Mildred was - it sounded as if she was tearing the inside of the home apart in her fury. April wasted no time in grabbing two to the backpacks - all three would have been too much to manage. Mark breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of her returning and Napoleon flatly forbid her going back for the third pack.

Mark passed a lightweight poncho over to Napoleon, who put it on Illya to help keep his body heat in - what little there was of it. Mark then looked over the other waterproof material. There wasn't a lot, but enough that he could get enough to wrap around Napoleon and April's feet before cutting some straps to tie them in place.

"Not much, but it will be a bit better than being barefoot out here. Now let's get going. I don't want to be out here to see what she meant about when it gets darks. Still have the directions, April?"

"I do, but should we follow them? The last thing she wanted for us to do was to get somewhere and come back for Illya."

"She has a point, Mark. Is there a compass in the survival gear?"

"There is - I remember seeing it. Look in that side pouch, Mark."

"Got it. Let's see - we were driving roughly due west. The landslide was to our right - that would have been north and we headed away from it - due south."

"So, to reach the road again, we head north. April, you take the lighter backpack and the compass - keep us on course. Mark and I will swap off between the other backpack and Illya."

With the muddy ground, makeshift shoes and carrying the deadweight that was Illya, progress was slow except for where the sun was concerned. It made it's way steadily across the sky almost as if impatient for night.


	7. Chapter 7

There was less than an hour of daylight remaining when Illya seemed to convulse in Napoleon's arms. Concerned, he stopped and knelt down to check on him.

"Mark - April! Hold up. I need to see how Illya's doing."

"Now? We're running out of time fast, mate."

"I know, Mark. Trust me, I know."

Tugging the poncho out of the way, Napoleon took a good look at Illya, then smiled.

"He's breathing better. His color looks better too."

Mark started to speak, but was startled by his communicator going off. Moving so quickly that he almost fumbled his pen, Mark opened it.

"Slate here."

Before he could say anything else, Mister Waverly's voice came over.

"Mister Slate. Thank heavens. Are the others with you?"

"Yes, sir. Illya - Mister Kuryakin is ill, sir. We could really use an extraction, sir."

"Our people are in the vicinity and have been searching for the four of you. Maintain your position - we are triangulating in on your location now. They should reach you shortly."

Mark and April moved to flank Napoleon as he continued to hold onto his partner. Neither of them were looking toward the direction they expected help from - both of them kept a wary eye on the direction they'd come from.

Their uneasiness grew as the light started dimming around them. A howl broke out and all three agents reached for their weapons. What startled them more than the howl was Illya. He sat up suddenly, looking back in the direction of the house and started speaking in a low, but steady voice what all three agents recognized as Latin.

" _Domine Iesu Christe, Rex gloriae, libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum de poenis inferni et de profundi lacu: libera eas de ore lupus, ne absorbeat eas tartarus."_

Napoleon's Latin was good enough to translate and he recognized the line as being from the Mass for the dead - with one exception. Instead of mentioning a lion, Illya's prayer was 'deliver them from the wolf's mouth'.

The howls turned into snarling that grew louder, but no closer as Illya continued to repeat the same line over and over. When a gunshot rang out, all four agents felt like their hearts had stopped - they been so intent on what was happening that they'd forgotten the extraction team.

The leader of the team was still holding his weapon at the ready, his eyes wide.

"What the hell was that? It reminded me of a wolf, but it was bigger than any I've ever seen."

Napoleon decided that now was not the time for a debate.

"Whatever it is, it's already killed three THRUSH agents, so let's worry about what it might be once we get out of here."

"Right, Mister Solo, Let me help you with Mister Kuryakin."

Seeing that Illya was softly keeping up the same Latin prayer, Napoleon shook his head. Superstitious falderal or not, he wanted to keep that prayer between them and the wolf-beast.

"You lead the way out - April, you and Mark follow him. Illya and I will bring up the rear."

The snarling grew more intense and the team leader didn't argue. Once they were back at the road and inside the cars, Napoleon heard an angry howl again and looked back toward the woods. A brief flash of red eyes and pale fur sent a shiver down his spine and he didn't relax his grip on Illya during the ride to town.

To their surprise, Mister Waverly himself was waiting on them and, after taking a good look at them, declared that all were in need of a hot bath, a hot meal and a warm bed - in that order. In Illya's case, a doctor was standing by to get a look at him, but Napoleon wasn't fearing for his partner any longer. Illya already looked better than he had since before they found Mildred's house.

Illya was given a dose of antibiotics, a bowl of soup and then ordered to bed - none of which he made any objection to as the doctor then headed to the room assigned to Mark to tend to his cut. As the others came down after cleaning up and gathered around the table, they found themselves reluctant to tell Mister Waverly exactly what had happened, so they modified it.

The story remained basically the same, but they left out anything with a supernatural leaning. Napoleon knew Mister Waverly well enough to know that his superior was well aware that he was getting an abridged version, but not calling them on it.

By the next morning, Illya was back to his old self, but all four agents were a bit dismayed when Mister Waverly insisted they visit Mildred's home. He said that there was no need to walk - one of the locals had given him directions and there was a road to it, though it was neglected and rarely used. Napoleon was instructed to do the driving and followed the directions exactly as Mister Waverly gave them.

When told to stop, at first, Napoleon thought they had gotten the wrong directions, but then he saw the fireplace. It, its attached chimney and faint signs of a former foundation were the only signs left of Mildred's house.

All five exited the car, four of them staring as they slowly approached. Just as April was about to say there had to be a mistake, she spotted the last of the three THRUSH backpacks - right where the side porch would have been.

Mister Waverly had moved to the side and was standing with his back to what little remained of the house.

"The natives of the area told me a good bit about the legends of this piece of land. A young woman lived here in the last century who was suspected of being a witch. They tried to destroy her by burning her home, but as the story goes, she returned to torment them as a wolf. A priest was called, but it seems the best he could do was limit her range to the area of her home. All pure folklore, of course."

The four moved closer and saw that Mister Waverly was standing over a small grave with a moss-covered stone at the head bearing a single word - Margaret.

When Mister Waverly took stock of his agents, he saw that Illya was the only one not in shock. He looked in the Russian's eyes and then nodded before clearing his throat and speaking.

"If I might offer some advice based on my personal experiences over the years?"

April found her voice first.

"We would be most appreciative, Mister Waverly."

"Very well then. There are unique situations that we all come across in life. Some of us seem to encounter more than our fair share, but that is beside the point. The point is, one should never forget those unique situations in case one happens across them again. But as they are unique, dwelling on them too much is not advised."

Still staring at the stone, Napoleon spoke softly.

"Remember, learn and move on."

"Precisely, Mister Solo. The version of events that you related over the dinner table will do for your reports. As far as anything else, I am sure if you have any remaining questions, Mister Kuryakin will be able to provide the answers. I would, however, advise that you ask yourselves one question before you request anything of Mister Kuryakin."

Mark glanced toward Illya, then back to Mister Waverly.

"And what question is that, sir?"

Reaching up to adjust his tweed hat as he turned from the grave and headed back to the car, Mister Waverly's tone was the one he always used when he expected them to consider a topic with the utmost gravity.

"As you grow older, you find that all knowledge is a form of power and any sort of power brings with it the issue of responsibility. With that in mind, the question, Mister Slate, is this : do you **really** want to know?"

Illya had already started following Mister Waverly back to the car as the other three hesitated by the graveside.

"Illya knows."

"So Mister Waverly implied, April."

"The knowledge doesn't seem to make him happy, does it?"

"Quite the opposite, luv."

"We can count on him giving us details if they become something we need to know, can't we?"

"My partner may play things close to his vest, but if the situation called for it? I have no doubts."

Taking a deep breath, April started toward the car as well.

"I will have enough nightmares as is. I don't need details."

"I think that's a good call, luv. I'm in."

"That's three of us then, kids. Let's get out of here while there's still plenty of daylight."


End file.
